Chapter 8: Aranea
It was only with a sense of irritation that Thirza responded to the pheromone call of the workers of the spinner-caste. A strong hunter-caste such as himself would not have lowered himself to this position were it not a direct command of the broodmother he was sworn to that he be here to oversee this experimental little expedition. So much of the recent months bothered Thirza. Too much change too quickly. Broodmother Chizirane was pushing this all further than he would have liked, but it was not his place to question those of the brood-caste, especially one who had earned the rank of broodmother. That was the way of the Aranea. Each born to their caste. Each aware of their place in the web. At least in a general sense. Of course there was always room for… mobility. Improving one’s station was a key factor in any proper Aranea’s life, though only within the context of one’s caste.
For a hunter-caste such as himself his lot could be improved by earning praise in the field against rival broods or other dreaded enemies of the Aranea race. Hence Thirza’s irritation. It seemed there were few enemies to fight on the distant surface, and certainly no rival broods. He could earn no honor here. No bragging rights. No prestige with which to bargain for better rations and matting rights with those of the brood-caste. Just the harsh light of the surface, the unpleasant cold, and the strange soft creatures that inhabited that bizarre world of sky and light.
He’d only been on the surface itself a few times, more than enough to know he cared for it not at all. Even at the time when that cursedly bright ball of fire was replaced by softer light of that flying rock the surface was still an uncomfortable place of too much light and too much strangeness. There was invisible movement of air called ‘wind’ and water fell from strange white things called ‘clouds’. The surface was a mad place and were it not for the possibility of such great sources of food on it Thirza would have called Chizirane equally mad for intending to establish an actual colony here. The only upside to that notion was that creating a colony required quite a bit of effort on the brood-caste, effort that would need strong males from the other castes. If nothing else Thirza could look forward to some pleasant times between dealing with the light and cold of the surface.
And the food wasn’t bad. He’d been sampling one of the more populace local spices. A pony, the strange, furry four legged thing was called. They apparently populated much of the surface. And they were quite delectable. Only minimally dangerous as well. The ponies the spinner-caste had caught as a sampling of food came from some kind of pony surface colony made from the corpses of the huge plants called ‘trees’ and local stone. There’d been a slight scuffle, but it’d been over before Thirza had been able to participate with only a few eights of the spinner-caste dead for the effort. Negligible losses, especially for the spinner-caste, the most numerous, and hence expendable, of the Aranea.
Though the possibility of trouble from the locals had been considered, Thirza had not actually believed there would be. Yet as he’d finished his meal he’d caught a whiff of pheromones from the spinner-caste workers and he’d lumbered to see what the issue was. Soon he’d come across a pair of fleeing spinners, one of which he recognized as Brachal, a ‘weaver’, one of the spinner-caste’s magic users. Thirza let out a deep throated hiss of challenge, barring the spinner’s path.
“What is it?” chattered Thirza, “Your pheromones reek of agitation.”
The two spinners immediately halted and prostrated themselves before Thirza, as was appropriate. Brachal raised two of his front legs in a gesture of supplication.
“Great hunter-caste Thirza, we bring terrible news. The fleshy ones have come. They attacked us, killed many, and are freeing the remaining food tributes!”
“What!?” Thirza roared, slamming a leg down and bringing his fangs close to Brachal’s trembling face, “You have lost both food and workers to prey-flesh!? You’re weakness will be punished later. Go and gather your fellow spinners and move the rest of the food down to the deeper tunnels. Now!”
“Yes, great hunter, at once! What shall you do while our unworthy selves perform your bidding?”
Thirza’s only answer was to stomp past the smaller spinners and make his way down the tunnel where they’d come from, as if the answer should have been obvious to the dimmest of louts. Which it was. There was only one response when the brood was under assault, after all. Thirza made sure his two rune encrusted blade gauntlets were secure to his foremost legs. Their enchantments warmed at his touch. The weavers of the spinner caste were restricted in their use of magic on the surface due to the lack of ambient mana, but the runes of the hunter-caste did not rely on wasteful amounts of mana to work their own special magic upon the weapons and armor hunters wore into battle. He was a young hunter, having only earned his gauntlets through trials and deeds, but he hoped soon to earn his first piece of armor, perhaps after this surface expedition was a success.
It didn’t take him long to find the chamber where the ponies acquired for foodstock had been taken for transfer further down. When he lumbered into the chamber he saw that a large number, easily eight eights of the ugly little four legged creatures, had been freed. He saw many fallen spinners, nearly three eights of the caste laying dead. Thirza’s fast working hunter’s mind quickly spotted ponies among the group that were different than the others. It was hard to tell as these colorful things all looked so similar in shape yet with no coordination or uniform in terms of color or smell. How did these things even tell who was of what caste? Yet he could tell there were ponies that were apart from the others, wearing what looked like armor and bearing weapons.
As was tradition he raised his forelegs and issued for the proper challenging hiss to indicate that the strongest should step forward and face him. Instead of sending their strongest warrior the wretched creatures started to panic and flee, making annoying little squealing sounds. Some, however, did not, the armored ones forming a line between Thirza and the fleeing foodstock.
His irritation spiked to its height. So be it, if they did not wish a proper fight between the strongest they would have to settle for being slaughtered together.
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Coldiron knew they were in serious trouble the moment this monster appeared and charged their line. It’s size was only matched by its speed, and it wasn't at all like the Lurkers they’d fought so far. Still, it wasn’t quite as big as some of the larger ursans, and it couldn’t be invincible.
She lowered her horn before the huge Lurker could ram into her line of unsteady ponies, both Arrow Vale townsfolk and her own squad all showing equal looks of fear and surprise. Feeling the strain through her horn, which she’d been overusing already, But she had to stop this thing’s charge!
Ice formed into a single, large lance in the air before her and she hurled it with a burst of her magic straight at the Lurker’s hairy side. It reacted with blinding speed, wining one of its forelegs up. The ice lance shattered upon a metal gauntlet fixed on that leg, the gauntlets curved blades slicing through the ice and sending shards of it scattering through the chamber.
Despite her surprise Coldiron reacted fast, turning to shout, “Fall back! Get through the tunnel, now!”
The Arrow Vale ponies hesitated a second, but only a second, before they began to back up towards the tunnel where their rescued fellow townsponies were clustered. Coldiron turned to her squad.
“Coco, put some bolts into this thing. Blossomforth, Trixie, cover the retreat!”
“What about you?” shouted Blossomforth but Coldiron didn’t answer, instead rearing up and then breaking into a charge around the side of the Lurker. Her horn sent spikes of pain into her head as she pulled more magic into it, this time sending a series of quick arcane blasts at the Lurker’s body.
It turned towards her, its forelegs weaving a rapid and deadly pattern in front of it. To Coldiron’s shock those gauntlets were able to turn aside her arcane bolts as if they were mere tossed pebbles. She saw markings on the gauntlets glowing with green fire-like light, their rigid, sharp shapes similar to the runes she’d seen some of the web slinging Lurkers create.
Just how many surprises do these monsters have in store for us!? she wondered as she let out a short growl, the hackles of her brown mane rising.
The Lurker at least was focused on her now, and when it charged her she had to react with lightning speed to avoid its first swipe. Those gauntlets were clearly not just enchanted for defense, because as she rolled away from one she saw it cut cleanly through the stone ground where she’d been standing. The Lurker was skilled, not letting up, easily controlling the momentum of its huge body as it turned to follow her dodge and lunge forward with its fangs. The large, fur covered mandibles on its hideous face hid large, curved black fangs and Coldiron felt them almost brush her as she ducked beneath the lunge and backed away quickly.
By now Coco had loaded her crossbow and fired a shot, the bolt catching the Lurker in the side. It didn’t hiss or make any noise of pain, but it did flinch slightly at the large bolt that had penetrated its carapace and Coldiron took advantage of the distraction to unleash a cone of freezing cold in front of her.
The strain made her feel as if her horn was about to split down the center, and she knew that was the last of such magic she’d be able to cast until she had some time to rest. Any further and she’d risk knocking herself out or worse. The freezing cone hit the Lurker full on, even as it raised its gauntlets in front of it and their runes blazed with sickly green fire.
Coldiron turned and ran, seeing that by now the Arrow Vale ponies had gotten mostly into the tunnel out and it was only Blossomforth, Trixie, and that buck Strong Back waiting at the entrance. Coco was reloading, but upon seeing Coldiron making a break for it Coco was quick to join her.
“Faster! Faster! Trixie says run faster!” Trixie was shouting at them as she waved a hoof, and Coldiron could hear the Lurker’s thunderous steps behind them. As Coldiron and Coco were almost to the entrance Trixie went into action, her own horn glowing violet and sending streamers of fireworks past Coldiron and Coco, which exploded in light and sound.
That got the Lurker hissing loudly. Coldiron hoped Trixie blinded the damn thing! She didn’t slow her gallop to look, however, instead shouting “Go! Go! Go!” to her squad.
They clearly didn’t need further urging, as they all turned and joined her and Coco in a full on run down the tunnel.
Strong Back turned and glanced over his shoulder, his face losing a bit of color as his eyes became saucers, “Don’t mean to alarm you ladies, but I think you have a new admirer!”
Coldiron didn’t have to look. She could feel the tremor in the ground as the Lurker came after them. The tunnels might have been narrow, but clearly the thing could squeeze itself in.
“Just keep running!” she grunted.
“Can’t you ice up the tunnel!?” asked Trixie, “Make it slip or something!?”
Coldiron shook her head, nearly panting “Can’t. Drained.”
Trixie’s response was a swear word Coldiron didn’t even think Heartlanders knew until that moment.
“Also not meaning to alarm anypony,” said Blossomforth, whose wings were a blur as she flew along next to them, “But it’s catching up!”
Coldiron could already see the tails of the fleeing Arrow Vale ponies not far ahead. They were slowed down by the sheer number of them that were trying to move through the tunnels. If the creature got through her and her squad the Arrow Vale ponies would be easy prey for it. Coldiron grit her teeth.
Her duty as a Legionnaire was to the success of the mission, the good of the Legion, and the protection of Equestrians, more or less in that order. Sacrifice was part and parcel with the job.
“Keep gong!” she shouted as she dug her hooves in and turned around to face the enemy. The Lurker was indeed catching up, closer than she’d have imagined. It’d squeezed its body into the tunnel with its legs oddly reaching out in front of it to drag it along at an alarming rate.
It’d be on them in seconds, unless somepony stayed and delayed it.
With her magic all but drained she drew her dagger with a weak telekinetic grip, hoping to maybe get one of the Lurker’s eyes before it killed her.
She only noticed a moment later that she was joined on either side by her squadmates and Strong Back, all of who had stopped and turned when she did. Anger flashed through her, but she had no time to argue or reprimand any of them for disobeying her order, as the Lurker was upon them an instant later.
Coco fired her crossbow, the bolt digging into a leg of the monster. Trixie fired a beam of magical force, deflected by a gauntlet, but slowing the Lurker down. Blossomforth and Strong Back brandished their spears an thrust at the thing’s face as it swiped its free gauntlet at them. Blossomforth lost her spear, the weapon torn from her grip, and Strong Back’s spear was broken at the time, but he still shoved the broken shaft at a leg.
Coldiron flung her dagger at the thing’s face, the blade sticking into one of the mandibles, instead of an eye.
She swore, preparing to cast a spell, even if it did end up shattering her horn.
Blossomforth rushed to grab her spear, which had clattered to the ground, and one gauntlet flashed towards her. Coco jumped forward and with surprising dexterity, and a wild, red eyed look on her face, turned and bucked the striking leg so it went off course and the blade of the gauntlet stuck into the stone wall. Blossomforth quickly gripped her spear and jabbed up, sticking the weapon into the exposed leg of the Lurker, causing brackish blood to spill over her.
Trixie, a look of both sheer terror and grim determination on her face, lit her horn once more and this time concentrated a bright light directly at the Lurker’s face. It screamed, an ear wrenching shriek as it flailed to get away from the light. Strong Back was hit by a back swing of one leg, catching the blunt side of the gauntlet, but still being lifted off his legs to slam into the opposite wall headfirst. The stallion slumped to the floor like a sack of potatoes, leaving a small trail of blood from his head smeared on the tunnel wall.
Blossomforth cried out, leaping to her hooves and rushing to his side. She wasted no time and began to drag the limp buck back down the tunnel. Meanwhile Trixie, sweat dripping down her face, pushed forward, flashing the light at the Lurker, which backed up slowly, tearing its leg free of the gauntlet that was stuck in the stone.
Coco then reloaded her crossbow and with careful aim fired a bolt. This was deflected by the Lurker’s remaining gauntlet, but the force of the shot forced it back even further.
“Trixie will distract it on count of three, then we all run,” said Trixie, looking ready to collapse.
Coldiron held back an urge to argue, “On three, then.”
The Lurker seemed to be adjusting to the light the longer Trixie kept it up, and soon it was no longer backing away, instead seeming to curl in on itself with tension brimming it its every limb. Coldiron was sure it would soon spring back at them, light or no light.
Trixie wasn’t out of a surprises, though, as she very quickly counted, “Onetwothreerun!” and her horn sparked with a new spell, the light flickering out but suddenly little balls of light wafting down towards the Lurker, The lights then burst into loud bangs and puffs of blue smoke that smelled deeply of sulfur.
Trixie ran. So did Coldiron and the rest, Blossomforth carrying Strong Back between her hooves as she flew.
The Lurker’s hisses were deep and rumbling and Coldiron felt the tunnel shudder with repeated slams, as if the Lurker were trying to smash through the walls. It occurred to her that might be exactly what it was doing, as she saw more and more dirt falling down from the ceiling.
“Faster! It’s trying to bring the whole tunnel down!” she shouted.
The shudders in the tunnel only became louder and more severe with every step the ponies took. Coldiron’s heart pounded in time with her rapid hoofbeats as dirt from the collapsing ceiling pelted her head, yet she kept running. Then a single low rumble reverberated through the tunnel like the groan of a giant, followed by a resounding crash that drowned out all other sound.
Coldiron felt something heavy pressing on her back and she sprawled to the ground so fast and hard that for a moment she blacked out. When she blinked back to wakefulness she felt certain she’d only been out for a matter of seconds. She felt warm hooves pulling at her shoulders and a voice speaking quickly and strained with worry.
“Oooh, please don’t be dead. Come on now, wake up!”
It was Coco Pommel, and Coldiron blinked and wiped dirt from her face, looking up to see the mare’s pale features, face creased with worry which quickly melted away into relief as she saw Coldiron’s open eyes.
“Oh thank the Princesses! You’re okay!”
“Alive,” said Coldiron, frowning as she tried wiggling her extremities, “Okay is still to be determined.”
They were still clearly in the tunnel, and the light was coming from Trixie’s horn. The unicorn mare stood, breathing hard, a few paces down the tunnel with Blossomforth, who now had Strong Back’s unconscious form laying across her withers. Coldiron turned to look behind her. She saw that the tunnel was completely collapsed behind them and that she’d been half buried in the fallen piles of dirt.
Her legs hurt, which to her thinking was a good thing, because pain meant they were still there and functioning. With a few experimental wiggles she found that while she had probably torn some muscles and walking would be nothing short of agony, she could still use both hind legs. In short order with Coco’s help she was able to free herself and stand, though she couldn’t keep a wince of pain off her face as her legs screamed silently at her for the effort.
“We… we need to keep moving,” she said, “That thing may still be able to chase us.”
As if to emphasize her point the dirt mound of fallen ceiling behind them began to shift and move and they heard a scrabbling sound, like something digging. Trixie’s ears fell flat against her head and her eyes turned to pin pricks, “What does it take to stop that monster?”
“More than what we have,” Coldiron said bitterly, limping along, “Move! Getting to the surface is our only chance now!”
Along they went, a limping, hobbled group, all tired, all injured to one degree or another. Seconds passed like syrup, each step bringing with it new pain for Coldiron, yet she kept going. Behind them the sounds of digging got louder and louder until less than a minute later they heard the familiar hissing of the large Lurker as it dug its way through the collapse it had caused and resumed the chase.
But the delay in digging through the tunnel had been enough. Up ahead Coldiron saw daylight and the sight caused her heart to surge with new found strength. Suddenly the pain didn’t seem to matter as she forced her legs to greater speed, urging her squad along.
“Almost there! Keep moving!”
More than the sunlight, Coldiron was relieved to see that the bottom of the hole that led to the surface wasn’t empty, but rather had a full two dozen Arrow Vale ponies armed with crossbows and spears waiting. She saw that even more ropes had been lowered into the hole to help the rescued ponies escape, and the remaining pegasi among the Arrow Vale ponies were lifting the last of the rescued ponies up. The ones armed in the hole were among Mayor Straight Lace’s volunteers.
The moment Coldiron and her squad burst from the tunnel mouth she shouted, “One big one right behind us!”
The warning was more than enough. When the huge Lurker began to emerge from the tunnel all the Arrow Vale ponies opened fire with crossbows, or threw their spears. The creature was battered by the assault, its gauntlets unable to deflect all of the bolts and spears that peppered it. The monster hissed so loud it was almost a roar as it backed into the tunnel, leaving splashes of its blood behind as it retreated from the concentrated attack. The Arrow Vale ponies didn’t let up, firing more crossbow bolts into the dark tunnel even after the beast vanished.
Mayor Straight Lace was down there himself, face stony as he turned to Coldiron.
“Let’s get everypony topside. We can’t…” the words halted in his throat as if the mayor just couldn’t believe he was saying them, “We can’t stay in Arrow Vale. Not with things like that waiting beneath us. Corporal, I hope you’ll accept all of us as refugees and… and volunteers at Beartrap Fortress.”
Coldiron, feeling ready to just lay down and pass out for a week straight, could only nod her head in solemn acceptance, “I believe that is acceptable mayor, yes.”
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With one long, sinuous main fore leg broodmother Chizirane lifted a wrapped morsel of food, bringing the thing close to her face to examine it with her eight eyes. The pony within the silken webbing was of, she was told, a breed called ‘pegsus’, the kind that had wings that allowed them the gift of flight. The pony was not dead, merely asleep in deep hibernation from the poison used upon it. It’s life would not end until Chizirane decided to use it as a meal, her own venom used to deal the killing blow and prepare its inner juices to be supped upon.
For now she was just satisfying one of her curious flights of whimsy as she gazed upon the sleeping creature, its light, brightly colored gold fur and even brighter blue mane fascinating her. Such odd creatures the surface bred. Their form and function were so ill suited to specialization to her eyes, yet she had to surmise there was a power and purpose to these diverse forms that didn’t seem to adhere to caste functions.
After all the ponies ruled a large portion of the surface and did regular battle with other surface creatures with great efficiency. Obviously there was power here, if she were keen minded enough to discern it.
Chizirane had spoken to ponies on occasion. She was among the first of her kind, the Aranea, to learn the tongue of ponies and other surface species. The surface had fascinated her for most of her life, from the moment she’d heard of it as a small ‘princess’, competing fiercely with her sisters for the coveted role of broodmother. She’d been laughed at as a whimsical sort. The Dreaming Princess, with her head webbed up with thoughts of the fabled surface realm. Chizirane didn’t mind the teasing and sneers of her peers. They had all underestimated her because of it and had paid the price of their arrogance, her sisters falling one by one to her schemes until she earned her place and right to start her own brood.
The ponies she’d spoken to were rather unappreciative of her stories. Honestly one would think they’d appreciate a bit of conversation and enlightening discourse before death. Most of them just screamed and pleaded for their lives. Quite odd. She still hoped to find one that might actually prove an intellectual equal, but she was starting to have doubts that the ponies were capable of higher thought. They seemed mostly interested fighting and breeding.
Well, perhaps her own ilk weren’t so different. The hunter-caste were obsessed with fighting, and the brood-caste like herself concerned with the perpetuation of the species. But at least they had structure to their fighting and breeding. The ponies just seemed to do it at random! Why, from what she’d gleaned they even bred between castes! Or tribes, or whatever they were called. So strange! But fascinating.
And tasty.
Really if any of the other broodmothers questioned her plans to establish a colony of the surface she’d just send them a small stock of ponies. One taste of pony blood and Chizirane knew she’d have other broodmothers falling over themselves with offers for trade. She chuckled, a chiming series of clicks inside her cavernous throne chamber. Her massive, bulbous body lounged on a luxurious hammock of the finest spun webs, her giant limbs hanging off the sides as she dangled the pony in front of her large, swollen face, the picture of broodmother beauty. Her slick black chitin was kept lustrously shiny by a small army of servants of the spinner cast that polished her hourly. Even if she were a broodmother living on the very border frontier of the Aranea’s realm she didn’t intend to let her appearance be anything less than if she were a broodmother in the Queen’s own court!
The doors to her throne chamber, a circular pair of half discs cast from obsidian, a common enough material deeper into the Aranea’s realm, swung open with smooth silence. Chizirane set aside the pony, hanging it off the bottom of her web hammock, and she with grace unlike her boated size, lowered herself towards the ground as an Aranea of the hunter caste slowly strode into the room.
She’d smelled his pheromones of shame and deference a moment later and instantly knew that Thirza was both in a foul mood and was a carrier of bad news. That was fine. It wouldn't spoil her mood. She was not the type to act like a little hissy hatchling at every bit of bad news. She knew Thirza well. He was young, but one of the more capable hunters to join her expedition. She could tell at a glance he’d been in a fight, his carapace marked by still healing wounds.
“Oh Thirza, my Thirza,” she said with a silk smooth tone, “You look dreadful! Sit, rest, perhaps have a bite to eat, and tell me what has befallen you.”
Thirza stiffened, his whole body going stock still. Chizirane had to laugh, her chiming laughter ringing once more through the chamber. He was so easy to rattle. His pride so prickly. But then, he was hunter-caste. That was normal.
“If it is all the same to you, broodmother, I shall decline food, as I have eaten recently to help my body recover,” he said, taking her offer of a seat.
Her throne room was filled in the center by a circle o plush web spun seats, the kind that a Aranea could rest his or her body upon with plenty of leg room. Thirza sat upon one of these as Chizirane walked to her throne, which sat in the center of this circle of chairs. Her throne was like an arch, four fang-like pillars of stone thrusting upward. Between them her own webbing spun a delicate, thick bowl of silk that she could rest upon and face any direction around her she chose. Taking her seat upon this throne she looked down at Thirza, seeing his stiff, uneasy state.
“Well then speak up, dear Thirza. What grand calamity has befallen you, hmm? I only set you to gather food supplies and test the defenses of the surface dwellers. Surely you could not have failed in such a simple task?”
Thirza clicked his mandibles in a fidgeting gesture, “Not failed, no. Food has been gathered from the surface, and their defenses tested. But resistance was more… impressive than expected, and some of the captured foodstock was lost…”
Chizirane couldn’t help herself, laughing yet more, seeming to startle Thirza.
“My broodmother…?” he asked.
“Hahahaha! Is that all? You come into my throne room, stinking from fang to thorax with shame, looking like you’ve been defeated upon some contest of breeding, and that is all that has happened?”
“But it is a setback is it not? I should expect full punishment for losing any foodstock and allowing myself to be beaten by mere-“
“Enough!” Chizirane’s switch in mood was instant and like a crack of thunder, her sharp tone silencing Thirza immediately. After a moment she continued, her voice light and playful once again, “This is exactly what I expected to happen. I’m pleased. The ponies resist because they are more than mere foodstock, dear Thirza. I was hoping your little raid would provoke a response. We’ve hidden ourselves for so many generations, with so few of us going to the surface save for exiles and hermits, that we know little of what the ponies are truly capable of.”
She leaned forward on her throne, eager light shining in her eight eyes, “Now Thirza, tell me everything you can about the ponies who resisted you so. I want no detail spared. This information, not the food, was your true goal, so do not disappoint me.”
So he did, and as he spoke Chizirane listened with rapt fascination, hanging on his every word.
And indeed she was not disappointed by what she heard.
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The march back towards Beartrap Fortress reminded Trixie of a funeral procession. There was not much chatting and the Arrow Vale ponies almost one and all marched with the kind of dour purpose of those bearing caskets on their shoulders. Trixie couldn’t blame then. They were abandoning their homes, and for many they were leaving behind loved ones killed or taken by the Lurkers. There was some good cheer from the ones they had managed to rescue, and from the ponies trickling in from the outlying farmsteads, joining the march.
Pegasi, led by Blossomforth, had flown off to check those farmsteads, and the one point of brightness amid the gloom was that it seemed many of the farmsteaders were alright, the Lurkers having only attacked the town of Arrow Vale itself. It’d just been happenstance that Trixie and the other Legionnaires hadn’t seen anypony coming into town on their way down the road. Now, between the surviving townsponies and the farmsteaders there was a procession of somewhere between three and four hundred ponies making their way down the road. At least a score of wagons were being pulled along with the column, loaded with supplies and weapons. These ponies knew they were marching into what was likely to soon be another battle, and intended to be prepared for it.
Trixie tried to keep her own chin up. With all these extra ponies to help maybe they had a chance against the ursans! Yes, Trixie firmly believed she had to think positive. If she didn’t it’d be all too easy to slip into a serious funk of depression and fear, and Trixie was getting tired of being afraid. She still felt a stab of shame thinking about how she’d frozen up in the fight against the Lurkers, when one of them had snatched her with web and been pulling her towards the ceiling. She still hadn’t been able to muster the courage to thank Coldiron for breaking her out of that with some well timed words.
As much as Trixie wasn’t fond of that unicorn she had to admit Coldiron had stood fast against danger and helped pull them through in one piece. Well, mostly in one piece. She looked towards one wagon where, after returning from the farmsteads, Blossomforth was now trotting alongside. Blossomforth would keep peering into the wagon at the pony laying wrapped up in blankets within. Strong Back still hadn’t woken up from being knocked out by that huge Lurker with the gauntlets. Trixie was no true doctor but she knew enough to know a head wound like his might be the kind a pony never wakes up from.
Trixie didn’t like seeing the worry on Blossomforth’s face, and found herself trotting alongside the mare.
“Trixie knows you’re worried about him, but hovering and stressing yourself out won’t do him, or you, any good,” she said.
A wan smile appeared on Blossomforth’s face as she ran a hoof over her mane, “Can’t help it. I’m the big sister of a whole parcel of little siblings. Fussing and worrying is all part of the job description. Besides…”
Her voice turned pained, “It’s my fault he got hurt. If I hadn’t dropped my spear-“
“Horseapples,” declared Trixie firmly, “The only fault is that of the monsters that hurt him, hurt all the ponies in that town! It was utterly unprovoked. If you’re going to want to beat up anypony, save the energy to beat up those things, instead of yourself.”
Blossomforth nodded, but her eyes were gazing at Strong Back’s still form, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, “Yeah… I just hope he makes it. I’m getting really tired of seeing ponies die.”
“Trixie thinks he will survive. He seems a stubborn sort, too thick skulled to perish from such a little bump,” Trixie said, putting as much confidence as she could into her voice, “He’s survived the first few hours, which are the most telling.”
Blossomforth’s smile was wider this time as she gave Trixie a playful swat with one of her wings, “I know what you’re trying to do, Trixie… and thanks. It means a lot.”
Trixie tried to look away to hide the small rush of heat to her face, hoping the pegasus didn’t see her embarrassment, “Yes, well, Trixie accepts your praise with graciousness. She would not discourage more.”
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“Well, little icebrand, it seems you got your wish. Arrow Vale is now indebted to the Legion.”
Coldiron tried not to bristle at her father’s bitter tone, focusing more on the simple relief that he and her brothers were still alive. They’d been brought in with the other farmsteaders joining the march to Beartrap Fortress, and Coldiron was glad enough to see her family, even if the bickering with her father began almost the moment they locked eyes with each other.
Solid Plough was a boulder of a stallion. His thick body might have seemed fat at casual glance but only the most foolish underestimated her father’s strength and stamina. His bulky frame hid thick bones and thicker muscle beneath a layer of fat that kept him warm in the chilly climate of the Western Barrier Lands. Solid Plough was a farmer through and through, and he seemed more reverent of the land and the seasons than he ever was of the Legion and Prince Terrato.
It’d been a point of contention between her and him since she was practically old enough to speak. She knew her mother had loved Solid Plough, and she’d never quite understood how the couple had managed to tolerate each other. Snowstorm had been a Legion mare to the core, and Coldiron had taken after her exactly. Yet she had so few memories of Snowstorm and Solid Plough ever fighting with each other, despite her father’s clear disdain for the Legion.
Perhaps her mother’s death had made things worse between her and her father, but honestly she didn’t recall any time she got along with the stallion. Her brothers were keeping their distance from her and Solid Plough, walking a good dozen paces back to give the feuding daughter and father their space.
“Father, I’ve never said I wanted all of Arrow Vale to be put in debt to the Legion,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Oh? I remember more than once you shouting at length about how much Arrow Vale owes the Legion for protection.”
“And you think that is an unfair claim? Legion lives protect these lands every day! You were saved from ursans by mother’s own hoof!”
Her father’s stern face flinched slightly at the mention of Snowstorm, but his voice was as uncompromising as ever, “You never understood, little icebrand. Doing one’s duty does not, and should not, ever incur unjust debt. I do not pester the Legion for more than fair payment for the food I grow, so they should not demand more than what is their fair due as soldiers.”
“And how do we do that!? How does the Legion take what it isn’t owed?” she asked back, voice heated.
Solid Plough merely nodded his head towards a wagon where Coldiron could see Trixie and Blossomforth walking and talking with each other.
“What of them? Did the Legion ask for their lives, or demand them? Is the Legion owed such power as to claim the lives of others no matter their willingness? Arrogance. Pure and utter arrogance. I ask no more from the land than what can be grown to feed my family and fellow ponies. I do not arrogantly demand the land yield more than it can. The Legion is like an overzealous farmer, tilling the soil until it is barren and dead and yet still asking for more.”
Coldiron shook her head, letting out a harsh breath, “I tire of this argument father. We do not, nor ever will, see eye to eye on this. The Legion does what it must…”
She sighed, “For what it may be worth I never wished for you, Hoedown, and Haybale to be put in danger. I’m sorry that things have gone the way they have, but the ursans are coming and none of us have any choice in what must now be done.”
“Little icebrand, whatever else I may say of your Legion, I don’t blame you for what is transpiring. And…” he looked at her, his brown eyes hard to read, as if the emotions were getting bottle necked before they reached them, ”…and I’m sure you’re mother would be proud of you.”
Coldiron could only nod her head at that, unable to meet her father’s eyes. Instead she focused on looking ahead, imagining in her mind’s eye she could see Beartrap Fortress past the miles of forest before them, and beyond that, the waiting horde of ursans.
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After her enlightening talk with Thirza, Chizirane felt the pulsing heat of excitement reaching her every hair follicle. She was convinced more than ever that her decision to come to the surface had been a brilliant one. A gamble that would soon pay off many times over. The ponies may well prove to be a wealthy resource beyond anything she’d imagined. Aside from food, their bodies would be a fertile playground for her… other hobbies. Most marvelous of all was how the ponies seemed to be living generators of magic! Of course she’d been aware of the rumors that there were a few ponies who could generate what seemed to be magical effects by pouring raw mana from small horns on their heads, but that had not been confirmed until Thirza’s report made it clear beyond any doubt.
And if one species of pony used magic, it stood to reasons the others might as well, though perhaps in different ways.
She could barely contain herself as she moved on her long graceful legs down the wide, dark corridors of her underground outpost fortress. Though it was small compared to the citadels of a proper broodmother in the core territories, the outpost was still an impressive three level catacomb of tunnels and chambers, all spread out in the shape of a web from the central throne room she’d talked with Thirza in.
Workers of the spinner-caste prostrated themselves at her passing, as did the occasional member of the hunter-caste. Most of the four eights of hunters Thirza commanded were already waiting in their tunnels to the northeast, in preparation for the night soon to come. A token guard of one eight remained in the outpost, perhaps a dangerously light defense but Chizirane was not expecting attack. She’d left her rivals far behind in the core, and no surface force would easily approach the outpost without being detected by her scouts. Soon, the eager, restless hunters would get their chance at blood. It’d be pony blood or the blood of the creatures called ursans…? Well, that’d depend on how that hot blooded ‘Warchief’ of the ursans fared against the pony fortress. She’d not lain eyes upon it herself, but her scouts, her liaisons between herself and the surface, told her it seemed the ursans held an overwhelming advantage against what amounted to just a big pile of dirt with some sharp sticks poking out of it. Chizirane mused that the surface race’s concepts of a ‘fortress’ was so different from her own species.
An Aranea’s fortress was built to be a maze, a labyrinth of dead ends, cul de sacs, ambush points, choke points, and the numerous barricades that could slow or re-direct a rival forces hunters and spinner-caste fodder. The cardinal directions were not the only concern, but the dimensions of up and down as well. Aranea’s lived in an environment where corridors, and mobility, went vertical as often as horizontal. Hence why Chizirane didn’t slow down at all as she flipped down a massive pit, web springing from the spinnerets on her abdomen, and began to lower herself down the huge vertical tunnel lined with elegant columns.
At the bottom of the tunnel the mouth opened up into a hexagonal chamber filled with a faint green glow from magic charged gems webbed into the wall at regular intervals. Arranged in this room were a series of stone slabs that acted as tables for various purposes. Some held magically rune carved tools, others jars formed of hardened resin and blown glass. Other tables held her specimens. Ponies, three of them, one of each tribe. They were webbed to their respective tables, though with parts exposed when needed for her work.
Her assistant, Leyshi, was already in the chamber, as she often was, and the young little member of the brood-caste spun about at Chizirane’s arrival, an excited click o her legs sounding as Leyshi rubbed her forelegs together in greeting.
“Mistress! Hello!” Leyshi said in her chirpy tone of happiness, a sweet pheromone wafting from her to show her affection, “I didn’t expect you today! I was going to resume work on the winged one like you asked. Is that okay? Do you still want me to? Please tell me what you want me to do!”
Chizirane laughed and waved a leg, letting out a bit of her own pheromones to calm the excitable younger brood-caste. Unlike Chizirane, who was a true broodmother with the massive body of one who’d passed her trials and tasted the pleasures of metamorphosis, Leyshi was too young to take her trial, and may never do so. Not all born in the brood-caste took the trials. Some were better suited to remain in the small, thin, ugly bodies of a mere ‘handmaiden’ and act as a servant to one of the broodmothers. That was just the way of things. Some were suited to succeed, and control, others to serve. Leyshi was certainly suited to serve, and had done so for the many years since Chizirane had risen to broodmother. Part of Leyshi’s service was from the fact she shared a similar fascination with the surface that Chizirane did. She’d been an admirable aid in the study of the ponies. These three subjects had been caught just a few months ago, from various spots, much like the ones she’d been keeping for food. But these three were special, having proven resilient enough to survive her experimentation.
“Calm yourself, Leyshi. We are going to put our current tests on hold for a bit.”
At Leyshi’s faint burst of disappointed pheromones and the way her small, stick thin body sagged, Chizirane put a long leg under the other Aranea’s face and lifted it a bit. She tried not to laugh at the rather unusual accessory perched haphazardly on Leyshi’s face; a pair of glass circles connected by bits of metal that the ponies called ‘glasses’. They didn’t help Leyshi in any practical way, but Leyshi liked wearing them and Chizirane had no real reason to object.
“We are putting the tests on hold merely because I’d like to start a new battery of experiments with some new information that dear Thirza has brought us.”
“Oh! Thirzy! Is he okay? You sent him to fight ponies,” Leyshi nearly jumped up and down in place, her legs bending nervously, “Oh they are so much more dangerous than everyone thinks, broodmother! Thirzy wasn’t hurt was he?”
“He was injured somewhat but other than his ego he has come out of the experience no worse for wear,” said Chizirane, “More importantly he has confirmed certain suspicions we’ve had about the nature of the ponies. We will now start to test these theories based on our new information.”
“That will be fun,” said Leyshi, scampering over to the table where the unicorn pony was held, a female with white fur and a dark red mane. She ran a leg over the pony’s face almost tenderly, “They’re so cute. I wonder what their colonies are like? I wish I could see them in their natural habitat.”
Chizirane considered that, for a moment, tapping one of her legs in thought. Most of the testing she had in mind she could do on her own. Leyshi was a great assistant, but what Chizirane intended didn’t require a helper. Thirza was reliable enough to be trusted with a simple guard task…
“Leyshi,” she began, “If you like, I can arrange for you to go to the surface.”
“Really!?” that did get Leyshi to jump, nimbly sending the tiny Aranea nearly half a pace into the air, “Mistress, you’re so wonderful to me!”
Chizirane held up both her front legs to forestall Leyshi from literally bouncing off the walls, “How many times must I tell you, calm yourself. I swear it’s like you’re fresh from the eggsack, sometimes. If you want I can have you attached to Thirza’s eights when they go to the surface. Remember they are there as part of a hunt, so you must stay out of their way. When, and only when, Thirza tells you it’s safe are you to observe the ponies. You will have to listen to him, understand?”
“Oh, oh of course Mistress, I will! I’ll do whatever it takes. The surface! This is great! I’ll go get ready immediately.”
“That is for the best. Thirza will be leaving tonight. Do be careful. As you said, ponies are dangerous. So are the ursans,” Chizirane said with a warning tone, adding a whiff of harsh pheromones to emphasis her point, and Leyshi froze solid upon smelling them, “I’m serious Leyshi. None of your antics. Be cautious. If you sense any danger you are to flee. You are not to do anything that will reveal yourself or compromise Thirza and his hunters. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Mistress, “ Leyshi said, her stance more subdued as she prostrated herself, legs splayed out, “I won’t disappoint you Mistress, you’ll see.”
Chizirane nodded, once, “I expect nothing less.”
Sending Leyshi to the surface was a calculated risk, but there was no one in her brood more suited to observing the ponies in their own environment. If she’d thought of it earlier she might have send Leyshi with Thirza before now, but she couldn’t deny that while this seemed a good idea she was nervous. The situation was going to be chaotic. When the ursans attacked the pony fortress anything might happen.
Well, no matter. Whatever the results, they will benefit the Aranea race… and of course, more importantly, benefit me.